


Marvel and Magic

by MagdaTheMagpie



Series: Marvel & Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Family, Gen, Grim Reapers, Roll-A-Drabble, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagdaTheMagpie/pseuds/MagdaTheMagpie
Summary: Each chapter is a new drabble or short fic for the Marvelously Magical facebook group challenges, which will all consist of crossovers between the MCU and HPU. Notes at the beginning of each chapter will give you the summary and pairing.





	1. Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Sam and Pansy walk into a Hydra base...
> 
> Written for the May Roll-a-Drabble challenge at Marvelously Magical Fanfiction  
> I rolled Sam Wilson / Pansy Parkinson / Soulmates  
> Word Count Limit: 100 to 1000

 

Sam didn't like thinking there was such a thing as Fate, that everything was already written in advance, that he had no say in the matter, no free will. He knew most people felt they were “blessed” with a soulmate countdown. Right there on their wrists where the pulse beat strong, where anyone could see it, but Sam did not. Sam hated it.

It was only made worse when the countdown left little to no time to meet his supposed soulmate, because he was standing in front of a Hydra base with Steve.

“With my luck, she’s a Hydra agent with a face like Red Skull,” he muttered.

“Uh?” Steve inquired, not taking his eyes off the guards patrolling the perimeter, counting how long it took them to disappear around the corner again. Sam waited for him to finish, then thrust his wrist under his nose. Steve knew. They knew everything about each other. Spending as much time as they did together on the road to chase after a ghost would do that to you.

“Oh,” Steve agreed, but true to himself, tried to soften the blow. “Maybe she’s a prisoner?”

“That isn’t much better. Imagine they did to her what they did to Bucky.”

“Maybe she's delivering pizzas?”

“In the middle of the desert?” Sam sighed, knowing a lost cause when he saw it. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

Pansy had been crushed when Draco had discovered her soulmate countdown and broken up with her - because he didn’t have one, but she didn’t care! She loved him! Had  _ always  _ loved only him. What did she care about a so-called soulmate she had never laid eyes on? She had managed to hide it so well until then too, but Draco had tossed her aside for a  _ Greengrass _ , of all things. 

In retaliation, Pansy had decided to accept any assignment from the Ministry that would get her as far away from the happy couple as possible. And if she still held on to the secret hope that Draco would see the errors of his way and come begging back for her… well, no one needed to know that.

Her assignment was to gather information on a group of muggle Death-Eaters called Hydra and assess how much danger they could be to the wizarding world. Her boss had snidely commented that she was perfect for the job, never mind that she had just been a kid during the war. She was, in fact,  nailing this job, but only because they were mere muggles. Such boring, easy to manipulate, frail people… but at least this base was proving to be interesting.

Not as interesting as Draco, of course, with his perfect ivory skin, and long, silky, platinum hair and-

“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded a man as he grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip.

That’s what she got for letting her mind wander, she hadn’t even noticed her disillusionment charm had worn off. Pansy smiled sweetly at her assailant and stupefied him with her wand aimed under his belt. He fell with a dull thud while she massaged her wrist, and froze in shock when she noticed how low the countdown was. Any minute now… Was she doomed to have a Death-Eater muggle as her soulmate? No fucking way. She deserved better. She  _ wanted _ Draco. She was getting the hell out of there. 

She was about to apparate when the one and only Captain America filled the corridor. He was even more impressive than she had imagined. One fine male specimen if she said so herself. Could he be…? No, that was idiotic. She knew from the extensive files Hydra kept that one of the reasons the man had been accepted into the Super Soldier program was his lack of a soulmate countdown. Of course the countdowns disappeared once their match was met, so that didn't mean he hadn't met his soulmate before he entered the program.

Pansy looked back down at her wrist, then up at Captain America who froze when he finally noticed her, then back down at her wrist.

10… 9… 8… 

 

Sam walked right into Steve. Honest to God, it felt like walking into a brick wall. Admittedly, he was at fault for paying more attention to his wrist than his surroundings, which was stupid when they were infiltrating a Hydra base, but… 

7… 6… 5… 

 

Pansy didn’t understand until the Captain looked behind him. He wasn’t alone.

4… 3…

 

Sam rolled his eyes at Steve’s shit eating grin. He knew something he didn’t.

“Not Hydra, no pizza.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide with realization and he pushed Steve aside, not knowing why he was suddenly so anxious to see her, his soulmate. Maybe it was Steve’s knowing grin, maybe just plain old curiosity.

2… 1…

 

Pansy’s breath caught when a handsome dark stranger walked into view. He was… the polar opposite of Draco, was her first thought. Gorgeous, was her second. About to get shot, was her third and she lashed out at the Hydra agent sneaking up on them with the darkest curse she knew. Force of habit. No one needed to know, although the man’s entrails splattered all over the wall was a bit of a giveaway.

 

“Perfect,” Sam breathed out as he watched between the pretty brunette and the human jello sliding down the wall.

 

“Adequate,” Pansy lied, because he was still a muggle and so far, he had done nothing to earn her respect, although the way he stared at her as if she had invented Sleekeazy was quite charming. But then he squashed all her doubts by sprouting wings to protect her from a stray bullet fired at their little gathering.

 

“Oh, just kiss already,” Captain America sniped as he barreled passed them to flatten any other threat lurking in the shadows.


	2. Rainbows and Unicorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frantic Draco is searching for his son at the amusement park. So is Phil. Sort of.
> 
> Written for the June Roll-a-Drabble challenge at Marvelously Magical Fanfiction  
> I rolled Phil Coulson / Draco Malfoy / Family  
> Word Count Limit: 100 to 1000

Phil waited for the frantic man in front of him to finish with his pleas to find his son. Listening to him, you'd think he'd lost the boy in the middle of a lion's den and not an amusement park. Besides, if he really looked anything like his father with his almost blond white hair and equally pale eyes and skin, he couldn't be all that hard to spot.

_ “This is a message for little Scorpius to please come to the entrance where your daddy is waiting for you.” _

Upon hearing the poor kid’s name, Phil couldn't help a snort from escaping his lips, which he quickly turned into a cough. The frantic father narrowed his eyes at him before stepping aside for him to talk to the park attendant in charge of announcements. Phil gave both of them his most bland smile before asking for Clint to be called to the entrance as well. He'd warned his wayward agent not to be late for the meeting with Fury and he hadn't even showed up. He was going to make him do so much paperwork in retaliation, his fingers would be too cramped to shoot an arrow straight for a week. That ought to teach him.

_ “This is a message for little Clint to please come to the entrance where your daddy is waiting for you.” _

Phil rolled his eyes. Every. Single. Time. To add insult to injury, Clint was the one having fun with the daddy-jokes at his expense.

“You don't look too worried about your kid,” Scorpius's father said reproachfully.

“It's not the first time the little scoundrel runs off,” Phil said, unable to hide the note of annoyance from his voice. 

He had better things to do than track down Clint. It was bad enough he had to keep Stark from experimenting his new gadgets on himself and Natasha from killing every man who dared look her way... Honestly, being a glorified babysitter for the Avengers wasn't all rainbows and unicorns. 

The blond man pinched his lips as he scowled at him. It appeared he didn't appreciate his lack of care for a “child”, which was admirable, really. Phil  stared back at the other man. He shouldn't pry, but he just  _ had _ to know what the father of a kid named Scorpius was called.

“I'm Phil,” he said extending a hand, playing up his bland smile and the crinkles around his eyes. It never failed.

The other man looked uneasy but shook it once.

“Draco.”

Phil had to bite the inside of his cheek. He desperately wanted to know more, but he couldn't fathom how to ask the man for the name of his father, grandfather and all of his ancestors before that. Draco… Phil sniggered despite the man looking so worried for his missing son. Being used to soothe frazzled nerves, the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could think twice about it.

“I'm sure your son is fine. The average time a child gets lost in amusement parks is thirty minutes and he can't leave the park now that you have given his description. Chances that he gets seriously injured here are about 1 in 17 million. He's more likely to get hurt crossing the road once you exit the park. So you see, it'll be fine.”

Draco seemed at a lost as to what to say, but his shoulders were not as tense as they had been a minute ago and he counted that as a victory.

“Ah. Here's mine,” Phil said as Clint walked towards them with his tail between his legs and a huge stuffed toy under his arm.

“That's…” Draco trailed off, caught off guard by the muscular grown up when he'd been expecting no doubt a mini version of Phil.

“My underling who missed a very important meeting so he could win a giant unicorn apparently. You know that's cheating, by the way, Clint. I'm surprised you haven't been barred entrance from the parc yet.”

Clint scoffed.

“This isn't Las Vegas, and I know for a fact the games are rigged, so it's not really cheating if they cheated first.”

“Yes, you're all about defending the innocent,” Phil sighed. “Speaking off, have you see a little boy that looks like my new friend Draco here while you were playing truant?” 

Clint glanced at the pale man and nodded.

“Yeah, actually. Thought he was a little elfling for a moment there. He was right by the cotton candy booth that spins them in rainbow colours.”

“Fetch him and I'll forgive you this once.”

Clint nodded eagerly and pushed the unicorn plushie into his arms before running off, back only five minutes later with a giggling child on his shoulder who was waving a stick of cotton candy around.

“Papa!” Scorpius exclaimed and ran towards his father as soon as Clint put him down. “Look what Mr Clint got me. I'm eating a rainbow, papa!”

Draco sighed and kneeled in front of his son.

“I told you not to wander off, Scorpius. And you can't just follow strangers and accept candy from them,” he added with an apologetic glance at Clint.

Phil grinned at the thought he now had ammunition of his own to tease the archer if he tried pulling one of his daddy jokes again.

“I don't know how to thank you,” Draco said as he stood with his kid in his arms. 

“You could take this eyesore far, far away from me,” Phil replied with a toothy grin as he thrust the unicorn towards father and son.

Scorpius had his sticky hands all over it and Phil smiled wider when he heard Clint’s moan of distress. “It was pleasure to meet you,” he added as he pulled his wayward agent after him.

If Phil had stayed just a little longer, he would have seen the fluffy unicorn turn into a fire breathing dragon. That certainly would have made his day.


	3. Not Your Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For July, I rolled: Steve/Draco/Family
> 
> Steve's new mission is to convince a reluctant wizard to join their team.

Steve didn't mind going on a mission that didn't involve flinging his shield around or banging a few knuckleheads together. What he did mind was being sent to recruit someone who was  _ clearly  _ reluctant. The guy wanted to stay in prison rather than join their team for crying out loud!

_ And _ he wasn't even an American, so why the hell did he have to go wearing his Captain America uniform. No amount of patriotism was going to sway this Brit. Might have the opposite effect actually.

But orders were orders, and one thing he was good at was following them. Mostly. If they weren't too stupid.

“Here we are. Mind your step,” his guide told him.

It was an underground prison dug into the rock itself of the Grand Canyon. It seemed a bit extreme, but was supposedly necessary to contain the magical humans, which were not the same thing as mutants, Asgardians or sorcerers he'd been told. The future just kept becoming more and more complicated. But at least it was cool down here. Nothing like the scorching heat above. The cells themselves were bare and dismal though, making normal prisons seem luxurious in comparison. 

“Here's your guy,” the guide said, as loquacious as ever.

Steve peered inside through the bars of the door and glimpsed a wraith of a man looking lost in thought. Steve cleared his throat as politely as possible, not wanting to startle the pale figure lest he break from the sudden movement.

“You again,” he muttered when their eyes met with a wonderful accent that brought to mind a myriad of memories of his time with Peggy.

Steve smiled despite himself.

“I assure you this is our first meeting. Draco Malfoy, right? I'm-”

The prisoner snorted.

“Do you seriously think you need to introduce yourself? I doubt there's another bloke in the world wearing…  _ that. _ ”

Steve looked down at his blue, red and white spandex uniform. He did have a point, and blamed this whole debacle on Fury. 

“It's laundry day,” he tried with a shrug, because humour was better than embarrassment, and always a good way to break the ice.

“A likely story,” Draco said but there was a spark of fire back in his eyes at least. “But mine hasn't changed. I have no intention of joining your merry little band of do-gooders.”

“You'd rather stay here? How do you not get bored to death?”

“Well, you could have brought me a book. But to answer your question, I'd rather stay here because I  _ deserve _ to be here.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose, both at the unexpected answer and because Draco was opening up to him so quickly, when Fury had told him he was as tight lipped as a clam. His boss did have a tendency to rub people the wrong way though.

“Really? I was under the impression your own people back home exonerated you, and you're only locked up here because of an unfortunate tattoo.”

“Unfortunate,” Draco scoffed and rolled his sleeve up to reveal the tackiest tattoo in existence.

A snake slithering out of a skull? Really? It didn't even look special. He'd half expected it to move or something since it was such a big deal.

“It marks me as a Death Eater and Death Eaters deserve to be locked up. All of them. No exception. That's one thing you Yankees got right for once.”

Steve looked at the young man in front of him. He hardly looked dangerous and seemed like a good sort. Weighed down by sadness and regrets… Steve could understand that. Whatever side of the war you fought on, there was loss, fear and destruction; orders you didn't want to obey and actions you weren't allowed to take out… 

“You didn't want to be marked, did you?” Steve asked, following a hunch.

“My father was. I didn't have much choice, and if I refused, the Dark Lord would have taken it out on my mother. I've seen how he punished his followers…” he gulped and looked away. “I couldn't do that to her.”

Steve nodded. Draco had just been a kid at the time too, and Steve would have probably done the same in his boots. Many people did all the time, that didn't mean they were bad people.

“The Malgrés-nous,” Steve said.

“What?”

“That's what they called themselves. The Malgrés-nous. During the war, the second world war that is, some French soldiers were conscripted in the German army against their will. If they refused, their whole family were deported which was as good as a death sentence. Do you think all of those soldiers deserved to be imprisoned too?”

“It's not the same.”

“Isn't it?”

“I'm a Malfoy. Everyone has told me I'm my father's son through and through ever since I was old enough to understand. But the things he did… I never could have imagined…  and I  _ know _ he wasn't imperiused. I don't want to become like him.”

“So you think staying here doing nothing will save you from that. I suppose you're right, but you must realize it's-”

“Don't.”

“... the coward's way out.”

“I am  _ not  _ a coward!”

Steve shrugged.

“Then prove it. Join us, and prove through your actions you're a good person, that you're not like your father.”

Draco gritted his teeth as he stared defiantly at him. Steve was having some difficulty not smirking because he knew he had gotten through to him and that he was about to capitulate.

“Malgrés moi,” Draco said in perfect French, with a hint of derision. “Maybe that should be my family's new motto. We do seem to end up doing a lot of things against our will after all.”

“So you accept?” Steve asked with a broad grin this time.

“As long as I don't have to wear that,” Draco agreed, sneering at his Spandex attire.

Steve wasn't even mad. His mission was a success and he had a feeling he had found someone who would finally be able to out-snark Tony.


	4. Starman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Marvelously Magical February Roll-a-Drabble  
> My roll this time is Darcy/Sirius and songfic.

 

“And you'll survey the readings?” Jane insisted while Darcy pushed her out of her lab for some much needed sleep.  
“Yes.”  
“You won't fall asleep? You're sure? You do sleep a lot during this part of the experiment…”  
“No. I'll just drink coffee. It'll be fine, Jane. Go sleep before you keel over.”  
“Call me if anything-”  
“Of course I will,” Darcy said with an eye roll.  
It's not like she could make sense of Jane's math voodoo and twinkly machines anyway. If Darcy squinted really hard, she could pretend Jane's portable-rainbow-bridge was the world's wonkiest Christmas tree but that was about it. Besides, Jane wasn't the only one who wanted to see Thor again, albeit not for the same reasons. In fact, Darcy had affectionately named the machine the Portal of Thor, or POT for short, which Jane pretended to be annoyed by.  
However, thirty minutes in and coffee wasn't doing much for her. She played Hulk-Crush for a while on her phone but she was stuck on level 98 and getting quite frustrated with it.  
“You're not much company,” she accused the portal which was blinking at her, red lights alternating with green, then she approached it, putting her head through the large circle of wires and metal.  
“Heimdal?”  
No answer, not that she expected one. This thing looked like a toy and all she could see through it was the opposite wall of the room. Maybe Jane had tipped over from genius into madness. Darcy doubted Thor could even fit his bulging muscles through the circle.  
Bored out of her mind, Darcy began cleaning up the mess around the lab and had piled up eleven empty coffee cups when she decided this would be a lot less tedious with some awesome music. She would still hear Jane's POT if it decided to actually do something, right?  
With a shrug, Darcy pulled her trusty ipod out of her pocket and plopped it down on the lab's speaker station before hitting play with one dramatic press of her index. Immediately, she began swaying to the familiar tune of the guitar. Closing her eyes she hummed along, finishing with the famous _oh-oh_ before going full karaoke when the chorus swung around. Poor Bowie had to be rollin’ around in his grave, but she couldn't care less. She frigging loved this song.

_There's a starman waiting in the sky_   
_He'd like to come and meet us_   
_But he thinks he'd blow our minds_

Darcy stopped dead when the POT began flashing more lights than usual, and yeah, okay, it sorta looked like a rainbow now. Weirder yet was the echo she could hear coming from it.

_There's a starman waiting in the sky_   
_He's told us not to blow it_   
_'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile_

Darcy paused the music, but the singing continued. So it wasn't an echo. It was coming from the portal.

_I had to phone someone so I picked on you_

“Good idea, portal. I'm calling Jane.”  
Darcy had her on speed dial and Jane picked up on the first ring, making her wonder if the mad scientist had even tried to sleep or if she had gone straight to scribbling in her notebooks for a way to bend physics to her will again.  
“Jane, yeah, you'd better come. I think your POT is singing.”  
“My… Oh, you mean the Portable Einstein-Rosen Portal.”  
“I'm not calling it the PERP. Just hurry over, will you? It's starting to look like a disco ball.”  
The portal resumed the chorus and Darcy couldn't help humming along. POT had a nice voice. Nothing like Bowie's, but decidedly male, all deep and husky. She'd go weak in the knees if it wasn't a stupid machine. Without realising it, she was soon singing a strange duo with the voice and she could swear it was growing louder and louder.

If we can sparkle he may land tonight

Darcy chuckled at that because the portal really was sparkling by now, and she wondered if Thor would land tonight. That would make Jane's day. But she knew the Asgardian had no idea who Bowie was despite her best attempts to educate him.  
Did that mean someone else was coming through?  
Heart beating wildly, Darcy peered into the depths of the POT, eyes narrowed against the bright light as the song dwindled to the last _la, la, la, la, la…_  
A hand appeared out of the light, right in the middle of the portal. Darcy was relieved to see it was human and hesitated only a few seconds before taking it, wondering if she was supposed to shake it to introduce herself.  
Instead, it pulled at her and she had to brace herself not to be pulled within the POT.  
“Not cool, portal,” she grumbled, pulling back.  
“What the hell are you doing, Darce?” Jane shrieked from behind her.  
“Fishing! What does it look like? Help me out! I think it's trying to kidnap me.”  
Jane caught her around the waist and they both pulled together. Soon, an arm appeared, thankfully attached to the hand.  
“Is that Thor?” Jane called out from behind her.  
Darcy studied the limb, but if it was Thor's, he hadn't aged well.  
“Doubt it.”  
“Maybe I should turn it off.”  
“Wouldn't that… I don't know, cut the arm off?”  
Jane didn't answer, meaning she had known that but asked anyway. Darcy put her boots against the portal's edge and yanked as hard as she could, falling back against Jane, a heavy weight on her.  
A dark head of long curls and an old fashioned three piece suit was all she could see of her catch.  
“I think your portal goes to the past,” she whispered at Jane, afraid of startling the stranger.  
“I'm going to call SHIELD. They'll know what to do with him,” Jane muttered as she got back on her feet, evidently peeved it wasn't Thor.  
The man groaned and rolled around, blinking the prettiest set of grey eyes up at the off-white ceiling and buzzing neon light.  
“Where the bloody hell am I now?” he asked with one of those sexy British accents she always fell for.  
“A secret military base? You're gonna be in so much trouble, mister Starman,” Darcy said, disentangling herself from him.  
The stranger turned to stare at her, then grinned mischievously.  
“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” he purred. “And what is my siren and saviour’s name, may I ask?”  
“Darcy,” she replied, still a bit stunned by the turn of events.  
“Darcy,” he repeated as if her name tasted sweet.  
He stood, then pulled her back up to her feet before taking her hand to press a kiss there. Maybe he was Asgardian after all. He certainly had their manners. “I am forever in your debt.”  
“O-kay… But who the hell are you? And what were you doing in Jane's portal?”  
The Starman bowed.  
“Sirius, prankster extraordinair and marauder of the Veil.” He looked back at the POT with its twinkly lights. “And your portal seemed like a fun exit. The landing certainly was,” he added with a leer at her cleavage.  
Darcy laughed, not only at his cheek, but at his name, only half surprised he was named after a star. Starman indeed.


	5. The Anomaly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Reaper and the Winter Soldier walk into a bar, confusion ensues.

 

There had to be something about the rundown bar on the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen that drew in broken souls. Every last one of them sitting at the bar was shrouded in their own bubble of solitude, their dark brooding pushing away any attempt at communication. That, and their noses in their drinks.

 

It wasn't the first time Harry came to visit the place. In fact, he would go so far as to call himself a regular. The last poor soul he had come to pick up here had OD'ed in the dirty bathroom. As far as exits went, that one had been pretty sad, and despite having witnessed more deaths than he could count now, he was still affected by their passing every time. He cared and felt sympathy for them, even without knowing a thing about them. The end of something was always a tragedy to him. He wondered if that's why Death had assigned him the reaping of the lost souls. To make sure that, at the end of their miserable lives, even if they had died a sad or lonely death, at least they would have someone who cared at their side. Death liked to play tough, but Harry knew he was a big softy under it all, which is the only reason why Harry still worked for him part-time when he had already payed off his debt for using his Hallows. 

 

Harry found the soul he was looking for, nursing a beer with a far-away look in his eyes. Harry was betting on a simple heart attack for this one, so he stood nearby, waiting for his time. His soul was wavering already, teetering on the edge, making his human form blur around the edges. He held out his hand and the scythe appeared there. At first, Harry had protested the use of such a barbaric tool, but Death had nattered on about traditions and doing things right for a full hour before Harry gave up trying to argue the point. 

 

A shudder ran through him, breaking his focus. Something terribly wrong had just walked into the bar and was standing right behind him. Harry wondered if that's how the souls he came to collect felt about him, but he knew with the certainty of a part-time reaper that it was not his time yet. So, slowly, Harry turned around and locked eyes with the stranger at his back. He was just a man, alive, technically, but his soul… dear God, his soul was a mess: broken, but not in pieces like a horcrux; both light and dark; with too many names, and too large to fit his body to boot. What, in Merlin's name had happened to him?

 

Harry belatedly realized the most striking thing about this James Buchanan Barnes: he could see him. Anyone could when he was  _ just _ Harry, but as a reaper, only the departing soul could. Speaking of… 

“Just a moment, please,” he told Barns before turning around to collect the new soul. 

Heart failure. Poor man just finished his beer and passed away without anyone noticing. Even now as he freed the soul and gave him words of comfort and encouragement, no one in the bar had realized there was a dead man slumped against the counter. That done, Harry let go of the scythe and turned around to find Barnes still there. Good. He'd hate to go hunting after him, or worse, tell Death about him. 

 

They sat in one of the sparse booths where Harry became just-Harry once more so he could order a beer. 

“You're quite the anomaly,” Harry told the stranger who squinted his blue eyes at him, as if trying to judge whether he was being mocked. 

“You're telling me? What the fuck are  _ you _ ?” 

“Didn't the scythe give me away? It usually does.”

“You're not how I pictured the Grim Reaper,” Barnes muttered. “Didn't think that was an actual thing.”

“It is, but I'm not Him, just a part-timer. He gives me the difficult cases, which brings me back to you.”

The other man went on the defensive, his left arm clicking ominously as he shifted it. “I'm not here for you. I'm off duty, but I am curious. I've never met a soul like yours and I've seen my fair share.” 

Barnes downed his whisky as if it was water, then ordered another which he fidgeted with for a while before speaking in a low, harsh whisper. . 

“I was born in 1917, drafted in 1942. What they call Second World War now. Got captured, experimented on, don't even remember most of the last decades, only that I hope I never do…” He shrugged, his metal arm clicking once more as he settled down. “So… I'm even more of a mess than I thought, eh?”

“Not the worse case of soul damage I've seen,” Harry replied, nose wrinkling in disgust at the thing Voldemort had become in the end. “But maybe seeing a soul healer would be a good idea.” 

Harry rummaged in his pockets until he found her card and handed it towards Barnes. 

“This is a friend of mine. She specialises in alternative magics, souls in particular. When you reach this address, I know it will look like there's nothing there  ut a grassy hilltop, so just say “nargle” when you get there and her tower will appear.”

Barnes took the card, read it over and tucked it in one of his many,  _ many _ , pockets. 

“If this is some kind of joke, I will find you and make you eat your scythe.”

Harry grinned. 

“I'd like you see you try,” he replied and raised his beer. “Here's to your recovery.”

Barnes reluctantly toasted and downed his second glass. 

“Should've known the reaper would be a smarmy Brit.”

  
  



	6. Band of Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus waits at the gates of the after-life when someone walks out.

 

Turned out, there was a life after death and it began at Hel's gate. Regulus stood there, staring up at the tall, foreboding bars, undecided. 

The guardian had told him he didn't have much of a choice but to move and had left the gate propped open for him m with an old mossy skull which was grinning at him. Regulus wasn't sure what, about the sight, disturbed him the most: the fans on that smile or the horns on top of its head. 

Finally, Regulus opted for sitting on a nearby boulder, out of sight of the skull. If he went through the gate, he would never get to beg his brother's forgiveness, he would never be able to thank Kreacher properly and unburden him from the Horcrux, he would never get a chance to  _ redeem _ himself. 

Problem was, only way to do that was going back. And only way to do that wa as a ghost. But eternity as a ghost terrified him. Only thing that scared him more was spending that eternity in that inferi-jammed cave. He was counting on haunting his house-elf to get out of that one, they had a bond after all, but it was risky. 

More selfishly, he regretted never having lived for himself. First he had been in his older brother's shadow, a “spare”. Then, he'd had to take his place and that had been worse, unable to make his own choices. It went downhill still when he was marked a Death-Eater becoming the slave of a power-hungry madman. In the end, the only decision he had ever made for himself in an attempt to do some good in his life had gotten him killed. Regulus  _ craved  _ freedom even more than redemption, which made crossing this prison-like gate next to impossible. 

“Why are you in the dog-house? Did the Guardian put you on time-out?” 

Regulus looked at the tall man walking out of the gates of Hel as if he was going for a stroll. Never before had he seen such mischievous eyes and smile, and that was saying a lot given he'd grown up with Sirius.

“I'm… deliberating,” Regulus explained. 

“Death? It's a pretty straightforward process usually.”

“For most people, yes, it probably is.”

The stranger hesitated, feet still pointed away while his eyes lingered on him. After a moment, he turned around and sat next to him on his boulder. 

“Tell me your story,” the stranger ordered as if he had no doubt he would. . 

And why not? Maybe speaking out his mind would help him make a decision, so Regulus poured his heart out, feeling lighter with every word. There was no judgement in his green eyes. On the contrary, they shone with understanding and anticipation as his own story wound to a gruesome end, dragged underwater by the living-dead, their claw-like fingers tearing at his flesh as his lungs filled with ice-cold water. Regulus shivered as his last moments on Earth flashed before his eyes. 

“Brothers,” his sympathetic ear concluded. “You and I have endured much the same, my friend. I was on my way to teach that boisterous oath a lesson in fact. Would you care to accompany me?”

Regulus’ brows drew together in confusion. 

“I'm dead,” he reminded him. “Aren't you?” 

“I am Loki, God of Asgard. I don't die so easily, my mortal friend.”

Regulus tried not to gawk, because that was uncouth, which he most certainly was not, but he realized he had been gaping like a fish when Loki's finger gently closed it shut. 

“You've heard of me,” Loki concluded with a satisfied smile, like the cat that had gotten the canari. 

“Of course I have! Sirius and I used to read books about you well into the night. He was a fan of your pranks while I admired your cunning. That you were, are, the best role model is the only thing we ever agreed on.”

Loki's smile became, if possible, even wider and golden horns began sprouting from a helmet on his head he could have sworn had not been there before. 

“Now I simply cannot leave you to this drab place,” Loki declared, extending a hand for him to take. 

“But…” Regulus waved a hand over himself. “I'm just a mortal. I'm… dead.”

“Ah, but a magical one. My specialty. And let's just say, it's a good thing you did not pass those gates before I found you. As it is, your soul is fair game. And I want it.”

Regulus smiled tentatively, the expression so disused, it felt wrong on his face. But it grew as he saw the approval in Loki's eyes and he didn't hesitate when he placed his hand in his. 


End file.
